


ffxv kinkmeme fills

by jonphaedrus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, chapters tagged individually, kinkmeme fills, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: what it says on the tin. various kmeme fills that arent long/clean enough to go into their own individual fics. chapters tagged accordingly in the title w/ a blurb in the notes





	1. clarus/regis; abo role reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Regis is an Alpha and Clarus is an omega, Clarus uses his own slick as lube when he fuck Regis.

Regis is too-tight, and Clarus isn’t sure if that’s him being an Alpha or just the fact that he never fucking relaxes. “You have to breathe,” he points out as Regis hunches over the black sheets, his greying hair sticking to his neck and shoulderblades as Clarus curls over him, fingers shaking. He could never do this if he was in heat, because Regis is _dripping_ with scent, spicy and midnight-dark and boiling at the nape of his neck, and it’s enough that Clarus is wet between his legs, his hole throbbing in want as he drips slick all over his thighs.

This is so much easier with Clarus. He can take four fingers like breathing during heat, come out wanting more, but with Regis he has to reach back between his own thighs and scrape his fingertips over his own blood-swollen rim, bite back a moan as he scoops his own slick onto his hand with his nails. It leaves his thighs trembling with want, his heart pounding in his throat, and he knows he’s not in heat and Regis can’t knot or he’d be gagging for it. Instead he just slowly eases a third finger up into Regis, widens them as far as they can, and fucks him sloppy to get the slick into him, until Regis keeps making this shattered noise into the sheets.

“Clarus,” Regis hisses, and there’s an order there that makes Clarus sigh in delight. “Now, please.” Now is easy to do, now is so easy to do, now is scraping his fingers back up into himself to get them sopping, now is slicking his Omega-small cock that shouldn’t be so hard to get into Regis but it _is_ , now is pressing Regis’ narrow hips to the sheets and leaning his heavier weight over the King and sliding into him one hot-slick-throb-inch at a time until Regis is crying out loud and unabashed into the sheets, rolling his hips back to fuck himself on Clarus cock. “Yes,” Regis moans, and Clarus fucks him until he’s shaking, sweat on his brow and on his lips, and he’s begging for it, moaning as he slides into the King’s too-tight heat.

Regis jacks himself off, rolled onto one elbow on the mattress, and when he comes he clenches down so tight that Clarus shouts, teetering on the edge of his orgasm but holding off, holding back, because he hasn’t been told he can come yet.

“Come here,” Regis murmurs, wet, pulling Clarus up and rolling over so that the older man is straddling his hips, and Clarus goes willingly, leans over on shaking elbows to kiss him open-mouthed as Regis slides four fingers up into his fluttering, aching touch-swollen hole, curls them forward, drags him over. “You can come, love.” Regis says it so gently, so kind, and—

Clarus croons, euphoric, in need and. Thanks.


	2. clarus/regus; creampie and come leaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Clarus fucks Regis before a meeting but there's no time to clean up. Regis has to go the meeting with an ass full of cum and is desperately trying not to let it leak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> afab!trans!regis in this one

Regis had looked at the clock and said, _we have time_.

They had both forgotten that the clock in his office ran a few minutes late, to make sure that they were on time for meetings, which was how the King’s phone had gone off from one of the other council members, asking if they’d been there, just as he was sliding down to the base of Clarus’ cock and biting Clarus’ lip, whispering to him _you can come, love, yes, just like that_ , shuddering tight and hot around him, slick, high cheekbones flushed and a hand on his clit.

The King’s orgasm was a cut-off moan and a catlike smile, tongue pressed behind his teeth as he clenched and came all wet and hot and _gods_ , Clarus loved him, loved him something awful.

And then, brushing his hair off of his face, still flushed and sated and pleased, Regis had checked his phone, eyes widened, checked the time, and pulled off of Clarus’ still-hard dick so fast he’d almost yelped, the King fumbling to get his trousers back on. “Shit,” he mumbled, trying to right his clothes, looking at Clarus with blown pupils in his green, green eyes, still bright with the afterglow, “ _Meeting,_ Clarus.”

It took a solid ten seconds for it to hit him, and then Clarus replied, “Fuck me up the ass with a tent pole,” and tried to _not_ look like His Royal Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII had just spent the better part of the last half-hour riding his dick like he was a prized racehorse and Regis was his jockey. Which they both did, actually. The dishabille was more than a little risqué.

It was only when Regis was halfway out the door of the office that he took in a sudden, sharp breath and froze, mouth a pursed line. “Reg?” Clarus turned around, worried already, and the younger man had clenched his jaw, closed his eyes.

“You came in me,” he said after a moment, and Clarus made _such_ a face—there was no time to stop. They were already late. “Hopefully I can run to the restroom.”

He didn’t get to. Instead, they got to the meeting, everyone looked a little askance at the both of them, Regis immediately put on his no-nonsense face and Clarus pretended to be a brick wall as he fixed his hair, wished it wasn’t so long, as down to his shoulders was just the perfect length to be sexhair no matter _how_ they did it, and got to work.

It was only about half an hour in that he began to notice Regis shifting side to side on the chair, looking consternated. And, when he stood to point to the map, leaning a little more _carefully_ that usual. How he bit his lip, eyes slightly unfocused. It took a while longer yet to figure out what he was doing, until finally, Clarus realised.

He was trying to keep Clarus’ come from sliding down the inside of his thighs, doing kegels like his life depended on it. And acting, surprisingly, perfectly normal about it. Like he spent the better part of an afternoon regularly trying to pretend like if he stopped paying attention he was going to have sticky, damp thighs and probably an awkward wet spot on the seam of his slacks. When a sojourn was finally called, after three hours, Regis stiffly got to his feet, and leaned down, one slim hand on Clarus’ shoulder to hiss into his ear,

“This,” the King snarled, under his breath, as he left presumably to go make a belated trip to the bathroom to clean up the mess before it got any worse, “Was a _mistake_.” Clarus closed his eyes.

Teach _them_ to stop acting like a couple of twentysomethings.


	3. gladio/noctis; watersports, humil, enema, semipublic sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Any form of watersports is fine, but I'd love it if Gladio fucks Noctis and fills him with his come and piss.

"Yeah, just like that," Gladio snarls in just barely a whisper, as he shoves Noctis' head down into the sleeping bag, his hips stilling as he comes balls-deep inside the Prince, Noctis' moaning muffled by the stuffing crammed between his teeth. "Oh, you love being full, don't you," Gladio bends further forward over him as he whispers it, hand slipping under his chest, clasping his narrow abdomen. "You want more." Noctis nods, rolling his hips back, unfinished, and Gladio slides his hand further down to grab his cock, squeezing it at the base. His hands are so large that Noct fits almost entirely in his palm, his cockhead squeezed right out of his fist. "Don't wake them up," Gladio warns him just before he shifts his cock in to the base, before he gets soft, and hisses between his teeth into Noct's ear as he lets loose and pisses in him.  
  
It's well past three in the morning, and he hasn't taken a leak since before dinner, so it's a big one, and he keeps peeing long past when he normally would be done, pees until he can fill Noct's stomach distending with the weight and the fluid, until Noctis comes just from being full, screaming into the sleeping bag stuffing, his cock jumping and throbbing as he paints his own stomach with his come, shaking violently as Gladio finally finished, pulling out, leaving Noctis sagging and full, drops of urine running down his thighs, squeezed out of his loose entrance, all fucked-wide by Gladio's monster dick, and he slaps the Prince gently on the thigh as Noctis writhes out from under him, wheezing and flushed-hot, cupping his fingers under his leaking anus, trying to pinch it shut.  
  
"Go make a mess outside, pretty boy," Gladio warns, and Noctis skulks out, humiliated and still-hard, while Gladio wipes up the come and flops down on his back, his night's work done.


	4. ardyn/cor; semipublic, humil, watersports, dubcon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just want to see Ardyn lose his cool, and piss his pants. Some FFXV character is into Ardyn being humiliated and piss-drenched? Take your pick.

Cor should not, of course, be here. Or, he should be, but he should be tearing the base to shreds rather than pressed hot and hard all up along Ardyn's back, trapping him against the wall, the both of them crouched in shadow as Caligo tears a couple of lieutenants a new one. Ardyn's heartbeat is hard in his chest and Cor should be more scared, but he's so hard he can hardly notice.   
  
Ardyn shakes against him, and takes in a ragged breath. He keeps shifting side to side, but there's nowhere to go. It's only because they're both wearing black that nobody's noticed them, crammed into the corner. If Caligo wasn't yelling, he might have heard them breathing. "Need something?" Cor whispers, breath hot over the shell of Ardyn's ear, hand on the base of his stomach.  
  
"No," Ardyn snarls back, and then freezes as Cor pushes down slightly, trying to see if he's already that turned on just from having Cor grinding against the crack of his ass, but the noise Ardyn makes is not one of arousal, it's of pain and humiliation, and Cor pauses.   
  
It's not a bad noise, out of him.  
  
"Marshal," the other man growls, shaking again. His knuckles, Cor notices, in the light of the spotlights, are white. "Don't." Cor, curious, shifts his hand flat and presses the base of his palm down into Ardyn's bladder and he ducks his head, wheezes, pulls his legs a little closer together, getting antsy. "Stop it," he whines, but Cor does it a third time, because he can see what's happening here.  
  
"Didn't plan on taking long?" Cor laughs under his breath as he backs Ardyn a little further into the corner, the other man's palms flattening to the concrete walls of the Niflheim base. "Too bad Caligo showed up."  
  
"I _swear_ , Cor—" Ardyn tries to continue, but the heated tone of his voice turns into something pleading halfway through the second word as Cor gets his free hand over the other man's mouth, fingers dipping past his lips to dig into his gag reflex so he can only wheeze for breath and shake violently. And, really, that's a better look for him than talking is. Cor boxes the man in further, and presses his palm in, down. Ardyn could stop him if he wanted to, Cor's sure, but he isn't. Instead, he's trembling violently in Cor's arms, panting for little ragged breath and whimpering as Cor feels him shift to try and get away. He can't, though. There's nowhere for him to go, trapped between Cor and the wall.   
  
"What, Ardyn," Cor whispers into his ear, glancing at Caligo to make sure nobody can hear them his voice pitched so low he can barely hear himself. "You don't want to make a mess? It's dangerous to hold it in, you know. That's how you get a UTI." As he says it, Cor knocks Ardyn's knees further apart so he can't squeeze down, and digs his palm into the other man's bladder until he makes this awful noise that vibrates high in the back of his throat against Cor's fingertips. He can feel Ardyn's tears, hot, dripping over the top of his hand. "You're so bad at taking care of yourself. One would almost think the Chancellor doth protest too much. Although I doubt it would be good for your reputation to be found peeing yourself in the arms of the Crownsguard Marshal." Ardyn ducks his head forward and Cor slides a third finger into his mouth, keeping him from biting down, starts a slow rhythm of pressure into his bladder, coaxing him to lose control. Ardyn is shaking. Violently. "One would even think," Cor continues, a fraction lower, a fraction slower, a fraction _softer_ , as he shoves Ardyn into the wall, hard as hell himself just from the awful little noises that the other man keeps making, as wordless pleas for Cor to stop (or keep going, it's not clear,) "You want to make a mess of yourself. Such a dirty whore."  
  
Ardyn yelps, probably, although it's muffled enough by Cor's hand that it's just a little high noise of surprise, and he's sobbing, hyperventilating around Cor's fingers as he loses control of his bladder, peeing messily all over both his thighs, and Cor can smell it, hot and acrid, somehow the right counterpoint to Ardyn's burning tears. Ardyn's leather coat is guaranteed to keep him clean, so he just enjoys Ardyn shaking in his arms, sobbing ugly tears, doubled over forward and peeing his pants right where anyone could see, hear, know. Cor knows. Cor knows, and he's never going to forget the way Ardyn's skin burns under his palm and the absolute anguish that holds his shoulders stiff and the horrible, aroused cracking shrieks low in the back of his throat. When Cor lets Ardyn go at last, pulls his fingers out of his mouth, the other man looks at him with his amber eyes wet and huge, his lips slick with spit, and shivers, with fury or fear or humiliation or all three, and Cor smiles, because he's somehow even better like this.  
  
He'll have to try this again. Later. When he can make the best of it.


	5. ardyn/cor; carsex, bad!sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn gives Cor a lift in his ugly car, after some sexual tension and flirting they're all over each other and have to pull over. Consensual only, no noncon. Cor still hates his car though.

“Ow,” Ardyn grunted, as the top of his head slammed into the door of the backseat of his car, the handle digging into the top of his skull. “Ow, ouch. Ow.”

Cor, bent double over him, paused, and huffed an angry breath. At this rate, he wasn’t going to be able to stay hard. Ardyn stared back up at him, his hair stuck in his mouth, his cheeks flushed almost as red as his hair, and looked remarkably similar to a wet angry cat. “This was your idea,” the Marshal pointed out, as Ardyn closed his eyes, sighed, his mouth a little sad pucker. “We could have done this anywhere else.”

“Well, it should _theoretically_ work you’re just so _overzealous.”_ Cor, because that was annoying, thrust forward and smacked Ardyn’s head onto the door of his car again. Just to make him yelp. Which he did. “Marshal!”

“I’m sorry, did you bang your head?” He did it again, and Ardyn had his lower lip stuck out pugnaciously. He didn’t look pleased. “Maybe if you weren’t so tall, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“Do you want to get off, Marshal, or do you want to shit-talk?” Ardyn’s cock was probably harder now than Cor’s was, getting soft by the absolute ridiculous bullshit of their present situation as they tried to fuck in the car (and failed), and Cor grunted, leaned forward because he would _not_ lose to let the other man make the point, and opened the door to the car.

Ardyn slid backward to land with his head hanging off of the back seat, and in revenge, kicked Cor in the thigh. Cor gave as good as he got, and shoved the other man’s hips down at just the right angle that he fucked, hard, up into Ardyn’s prostate on his next thrust. He yelped again. It was a good sound. “Getting soft, Marshal?” the other man chided, and Cor sighed, bent double to grab Ardyn’s boxers from where they’d gotten tossed onto the floor of the car, balled them up, and shoved them into his mouth to muffle him.

His flush got angrier, and his eyes were furious, but he didn’t bother to take it out. Just fumed and silently glared at Cor. “Shut up,” he told Ardyn, “And next time, let me at _least_ fuck you in the gas-station bathroom stall like any other two-gil whore, rather than insisting on ruining your fucking upholstery.”

 

 

It was only afterward that Ardyn, bent double to stretch out the absolute murder Cor had done to his back, said, “I’m at _least_ a twenty-gil whore, Cor. Be sensible, really.”

If they hadn’t been in Ardyn’s car, Cor would have driven off and left him for no other reason than that Ardyn was insufferable and dumping him in the middle of an empty field with his pants off was the least that Cor could do.


	6. ardyn/cor; omega!ardyn, humil, inflation, waterports, slurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> while ardyn's knotted his alpha starts pushing on his stomach making a thing about how full he is and ardyn ends up pissing himself

Ardyn’s face and chest are almost as red as his hair, and there’s a visible bump on his stomach because it’s been two days and Cor hasn’t let him clean out, going straight from being knotted to being knotted again the minute it went down. When it _had_ gone down enough that Cor’s come could have drained back out of him, Cor had plugged the other man up with four curled-forward fingers and forced it all to stay in him, watched Ardyn’s amber eyes go wild and his lips part and his little omega cock drip and throb, cockhead red and spongy and drooling. Just like his mouth was.

When Cor pushes in again, his come where Ardyn’s full of it drips out his wet cunt around the shaft of Cor’s cock, lines slipping down over his balls. Ardyn moans, knuckles white in the sheets. “You all full?” Cor asks, patient, wrapping one hand around the other man’s cock, loving the way it’s so small it just bumps in his fist, foreskin dragging up over the arch of the glans. “Been a while you’ve been sitting here. Like being stuffed full of my come, whore?” Cor’s sure at this point it’s so far in him that it’s passed his cervix. He feels like it, too, the pressure and weight of his come in the other man. Two days worth of knots isn’t enough for Ardyn; now he lets Cor breed him proper he’s fucking insatiable, his wet needy noises driving him on, and on, and on.

“Cor,” Ardyn whines, grabbing at his hipbones, dragging him closer, whimpering in something needy and messy. “Again, please, again—“ how many more _agains_ until the man’s damn heat is over, how many _agains_ until he’s literally so full that Cor can’t get inside of him without pushing his come back out wholesale? He should really force Ardyn to spread his lips gaping and crouch down and drip out until he’s empty to see how long the man could last like that before he’d be on his hands and knees with his own fist shoved in his hole, screaming and begging Cor to mount him like the omega bitch in heat he is.

Cor hushes his omega with a kiss, with a broad palm flattened over the base of his stomach, pressing on the distention of come inside him. “I’ll fill you,” he promises, because he can do naught else, “I’ll fill you so full, love.” Ardyn is a frustrating, disgusting omega but he’s _needy_ , needy as hell and he makes it known with every heady breath and helpless whine. He _wants_ and makes it known, and doesn’t like to listen to anything Cor ever tells him. At the moment, he’s begging, whining, slurring in his deep, accented voice for more, begging and begging because he knows how sensitive Cor is, how easy it is to get what he wants out of him.

He’s loose, from two days worth of Cor’s knot inside him, loose and sloppy-wet, but Ardyn still clenches down hard on Cor, eyes rolled up in lassitude, drooling again when Cor presses that hand to his stomach again, Ardyn twisting under him on the sheets. “How much fuller can I even _get_ you,” Cor snarls, as his thrusts burst his come back out of the other man, sloppy and sticky and wet down over his thighs. “You’ll stink of me for weeks.” Ardyn laughs, clenches down on him harder, bucks his hips up and Cor can see the weight of his come inside the other man, under his skin, making his stomach distend. “Want everyone to know the Chancellor finally got mounted?”

“Oh,” Ardyn slurs, tongue pressed up against the back of his teeth, “They all know. Can’t go anywhere not stinking of you any more.” Cor leans over and drags his tongue up the column of Ardyn’s throat and bites down, hard, at the top of his neck, just under the curve of Ardyn’s jaw, teeth digging in to bruising as he knots up again, Ardyn coming undone around him, sobbing and crying out as Cor throbs into him again, another load of come. His balls _ache_ ; he’s not as young as Ardyn seems to think sometimes, and coming ten loads in two days isn’t easy. How Ardyn takes it and takes it is astounding, and Cor stares down at him as they lock together, watches Ardyn shudder and drip clear from his slit, which Cor digs his finger into just to make Ardyn moan and yelp and whine and cry. “You want something?” Cor asks, pressing down, curious to see what Ardyn will do with weight on his come-full belly. The answer seems to be thrash and cry and yell, rolling his hips up _hard_ to ride Cor’s cock, sighing desperately every time Cor’s cockhead digs into his prostate or his cervix, wanting the weight of Cor inside him. “I could leave you like this,” Cor hisses, fucking into him harder. “Gods, if I could just plug you so you’d be full of my come all the time.” To watch Ardyn double over in the middle of something else, clutch his stomach, and cry and look up at him with his big soft doe eyes that belie his burning nature and _beg_ for Cor to either breed him again properly or to let him empty out. “How pretty you’d look all stuffed like that.” Cor laughs at the wide, desperate helpless look on Ardyn’s face as he says it. “You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?” Ardyn whines something awful, hips twitching, and Cor squeezes the base of his dick in one hand, pulses another load into him. “You want more? Want me to stuff you again when you’re already full? Is that what you want?” And Ardyn looks _wild_ and unhinged, and then his throat bobs, and Cor leans more weight into him, feels his own come shoot back around his knot, stuffing Ardyn up.

“Cor,” Ardyn yelps, and Cor startles as the other man arches up off of the bed and _cries outright_ , hot ugly tears on his eyelids and cheeks as he pisses, hot and messy all over his sweaty stomach, sobbing and hyperventilating. “I’m sorry,” he cries, begging, humiliated, and Cor’s so hard it fucking _hurts_ and he comes again just from the sight of Ardyn wetting himself, ruined and humiliated and so disgustingly fully that his cock hangs distended and ugly, his high cheekbones burning and his hole seizing so hard around Cor’s dick that he can only see stars, presses on the other man’s stomach harder until he can feel the weight of his own hand against his dick through Ardyn’s torso, until he’s screaming at the top of his lungs and his little cock is shooting dribbly white loads into the mess he’s made of himself, and Cor kisses him because _gods_ he’s beautiful like this, _gods_ he loves it. He wants to fuck Ardyn until he’ll never go back to normal, and he’ll be shaped like Cor’s big alpha dick for the rest of his life.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, wiping Ardyn’s piss-and-come stained stomach off with one of the man’s own scarves, and Ardyn hiccoughs an ugly little broken noise. “You nasty whore.”


	7. nyx/noctis; intercrural, orgasm delay, multiple orgasms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this wasnt a kmeme prompt it was a kris prompt but i hadnt posted it anywhere so its the one wholesome light in this black black tunnel of badness and slime

Nyx realises about ten minutes too late to have slicked his dick with lube that he probably didn’t need it, because Noctis is so wet that every time his cockhead slides over Noct’s clit he gets slick enough that there’s hardly any friction on his thighs. “Come _on_ ,” the Prince moans, ragged and needy, canting his hips up, tightening his thighs together to trap Nyx between them, making him whine, “Just stick it in me Nyx, please, Nyx.” He wants to, fuck, especially when Noctis is _dripping wet_ like this, moaning and whining, but thats like seventeen kinds of a bad idea. Even for this he’s got a condom on, holding it to his base with his free hand to keep Noct from rucking it up.

“You’re gonna have to beg a little bit more, Your Highness,” Nyx laughs, and Noctis makes this horrible broken noise in the low pit of his throat and rolls his hips up off of where Nyx has him pinned to the sheets. “You know I’m not gonna fuck you.”

“Dammit, Nyx,” Noctis tries to say, clenching down, but Nyx muffles it by sliding his hand around the other man’s stomach so that he can wrap his other hand under one of the Prince’s breasts, squeezing at his nipple until Noct is writhing, hypersensitive and moaning in little gasps, but not getting enough friction on his clit to come. “Nyx—“ his teeth are grit, frustrated, and Nyx knows he’s gonna probably get in trouble for this later, but it’s so nice to torment him, to see how long Noct can go without coming when he’s seized up just from Nyx playing with his nipples before. “Nyxxx _xxxx_.” Nyx pinches his nipple a tad-too-hard and Noct clenches down around him again, shifting his arms to try and grab at Nyx’s cock without any success. That’s why Nyx had pinned him down in the first place. He was getting grabby.

“Like, five more minutes, you can wait,” is what he was planning to say, it’s what he _meant_ to say, but what comes out of Nyx’s mouth is this ragged, startled moan as Noctis rolls his hips just in the right way to catch Nyx’s cockhead full-on against the wet heat of his labia, Nyx’s cockhead skimming over his clit to run the hood up, his shaft just. Overwhelmed by how _wet_ he is, how wet and clenching and hot and needy and Noctis _moaning_ Nyx comes more from being started than from friction, face pressed into Noctis’ sweat-damp hair, biting down on the back of his neck, making Noctis’ moans ratchet another octave higher.

The Prince is clawing at the sheets when Nyx’s vision stops being white-out afterglow. “Dammit,” the younger man sobs, ragged, “Nyx, I swear—“ even as Nyx is rolling off of him to fumble the condom off, tied and tossed into the wastebasket, and he rolls back over when Noctis has scrambled off of his stomach and onto his back, his chest heaving, his nipples hard on his tiny, perky breasts and his cunt _weeping_. His face is bright red and tears are wet on his lower eyelids as Nyx kisses him open-mouth, Noct returning it by biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Don’t be a baby,” Nyx mumbles, as he pulls away, bends down to get his mouth on one nipple and his hand on the other, pinching and biting too-gently until Noct’s fingers are knotting in his hair, dragging him closer, and Nyx gets his other hand down between his thighs, gently pinching his clit up and grinding his thumb into it. Noctis comes in flat seconds, twisting under him like he’s trying to throw Nyx off, moaning low and ruined in his throat, head thrown back into the pillows and begging with _yes_ and _please_ and _Nyx_ as he grinds his thumb harder into him, tugging on his clit, bites down on his nipple to pull him into his second orgasm, Noctis practically wailing as he eases off, just strokes him through it, and came back for the third to see how tightly Noct clenches, gasping and yawning and _wanting_ for Nyx’s cock, until he’s slapping at Nyx’s side with his knee.

“Stop, stop,” Noct moans, ragged and worn. “Stop it, stop.” Nyx leans back, and kisses the Prince on his bite-swollen lips, sucks off his fingers. “Gross,” Noctis grumbles, and Nyx laughs. “Next time, you aren’t getting away with this.”


	8. noctis/gladio, watersports

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah,” Noct sighs, hanging his head. The STP in his hand bent and rippled, the crappy silicon bending in his hand, and Gladio sighed, shook his head. “That’d probably help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by request for discord! i dr who asked for it

“You’re so bad at this.” It should sound almost cruel, but it’s remarkably reassuring just to have it admitted to him like that. Being told he’s just _bad_ at something. How long has it been since someone just told him he was _bad_ at something. Gladio steps a little closer, and Noctis flushes; more out of embarrassment at having to learn to do this, like he’s being toilet-trained like he’s a puppy or something, than Gladio actually trying to help. “Let me?”

“Yeah,” Noct sighs, hanging his head. The STP in his hand bent and rippled, the crappy silicon bending in his hand, and Gladio sighed, shook his head. “That’d probably help.” Gladio is enough taller than he is that it’s easy enough for him to stand behind Noctis, box him in with his big strong arms, and reach his huge hands down to the STP. It’s dwarfed in his palms, and he presses it further into Noct’s mound.

“So what is it,” Gladio asks, as Noct leans back against his shoulder, “Like a muscle thing?”

“No,” he sighs. “I’m more afraid I’m gonna make a mess. I pee in the shower all the time.” They both huff a laugh. “I just don’t want to be stupid.”

“No, you need to just relax into it. If you make a mess, you make a mess. You should have seen me when I was trying to learn.” Talking is helping, and the vice-grip that seems to have clenched around Noct’s bladder is loosening. “It’s not easy. It’s like riding a bike, or something.”

“I can’t ride a bike.” Gladio snorts into his hair, but it is working, and Noctis breathes a sigh of pained relief as he actually does manage to get to peeing. The experience is weird, and it feels strange, but it does almost feel like he’s peeing like Gladio does, or any of the other innumerable dudes with proper penises that Noctis knows. They both go quiet and watch until it’s done, and Gladio expertly shakes off the tip of the STP, passes it back to Noctis.

“There you go, Highness.” His voice is deep, rough. Noctis shudders. “I think you deserve a reward. You’ve been working up to that for weeks.”

Noctis is smiling as Gladio dips two fingers into him, digs his thumb into Noctis’ clit, and, yeah, maybe he’s quick on the draw, but fuck—if it’s not hot to have this kinda shit happen.

Noctis comes all over Gladio’s hand, and _this_ is the point where the other man says, laughing, “Gross.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter and tumblr @ jonphaedrus


	9. regis/clarus, ruined orgasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I guess I have tortured you plenty long,” Regis murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was for olivia. that much i remember. discord request.

Clarus has known Regis since he was literally less than a foot long and red and wailing, and in all that time, he still hasn’t figured out how to preempt Regis fucking him. Either figuratively or literally, the ass. Fucking dickhead. Terrible, nasty human being. Complete cocksucker.

Clarus is running through this list of insults because Regis is currently grinding down on Clarus’ dick like the fucking world is about to end. And has been doing so for the last half hour, non-stop. And yeah, maybe if Clarus was still like thirty that wouldn’t be such a big deal but he’s not, he’s fifty, and he doesn’t have that kind of stamina. He keeps wheezing, breath punched out of his chest, as Regis rides him like a show-chocobo, and leans over, kisses him chastely on the lips.

“What the fuck did I do to make you into a daemon?” Clarus asks. Regis just smiles at him, and clenches his cunt down tight until Clarus wonders if his dick could explode so hard it blew his head up. (It can’t.) “Regis, come on, _please_ —“

“I guess I have tortured you plenty long,” Regis murmurs, and reaches down, his fingers sliding slick through his folds, to unpinch the band around the shaft of his dick, and then he starts again, sliding hot and slick down until Clarus is all inside him, soft and—tight enough, and—

As Clarus starts to cum, Regis casually pulls up off of him like it’s no big deal, sense to nothing at all, sensation dead, and Clarus almost yells in agony as his cock jerks, spurting over his own stomach, his teeth grit, fingers white-knuckled on the bedsheets, and sags back down to the bed. It’s unrewarding. He feels wrung-out, and the high he had for a moment has lapsed into deadness.

“Oh,” he hisses, shaking all over, feeling more than a little sick to his stomach, “I fucking hate you.”


	10. ardyn/prompto, feeding kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, my dear boy, you’re looking almost frightfully skinny!” And, well, Prompto knows he’s not, but when Ardyn gets that look in his eyes of agony and fear, he can never say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for elia via discord req!

“Oh, my dear boy, you’re looking almost _frightfully_ skinny!” And, well, Prompto knows he’s _not_ , but when Ardyn gets that look in his eyes of agony and fear, he can never say no? (Not like he wants to, anyway. He doesn’t.) “I could almost count your ribs!” Not.

“Yeah,” Prompto says instead, because he knows what he wants and he _gets_ what he wants, “I guess I really am, huh? We’d better go get something to eat, then.” He isn’t trusting Ardyn with feeding him something he made, because Ardyn’s cooking is all far too rich, loaded in oils and spices and liable to actually make him sick.

Ardyn picks some place rich in French pastries, and when Prompto can’t pick any particular thing, buys one or two of everything, three or four of his favourites. Prompto isn’t gonna say no, it’s just about the best Thursday he could think of, and then they lay back at the apartment, Prompto sprawled in his lap, as Ardyn leans over, his trailing curls tickling Prom’s face, hand-feeding him macarons so fine they crumble at his touch, leaving crumbs all over Prompto’s lips and mouth, cake that puts whipped cream in streaks on the bottom of his nose.

Ardyn kisses him to clean him off, and Prompto, at about the point he’s starting to feel a little bloated by Ardyn keeps massaging his waist and hips and thighs, cooing about how soft and lovely he is, hot palms cupping his cock, has long-since decided this is not only a good Thursday, it is The Best Thursday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr twitter @ jonphaedrus

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr/twitter @jonphaedrus


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